Lucky Shot
by Kolja
Summary: The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.' Carl Jung
1. Sever

Disclaimer: Not mine, but sometimes you gotta take a little joy ride.

A/N: I'm just getting my feet wet with the characters and the fandom so if anything is out of character or out of place, I'd love it if you'd let me know.

Happy reading!

* * *

**Lucky Shot **

"This is the last time he makes a fool out of me! You know, I'm not a violent man. I try not to be, but what do I get? What thanks do I get?"

Donavan Pierce watched his oldest brother pace around the room. He sat on the couch, his watery green eyes darting from left to right, never leaving Desmond. His mother warned him about mixing in with his brothers, Desi in particular. He had a sharp tongue and an even sharper temper. Everyone knew that the slightest disruption would snap his short wire. Desi was always mean. He was never calm enough to listen and the only time he kept a cool head was when they did business. Nobody messed with Desi's money. Right now, Desi was clapping his hands and swaying back and forth, sucking in angry gulps of hot air. Donnie pitied the poor sap that had double crossed his brothers.

"Don't even worry about it," Danton, the middle brother, leaned against Desi's desk. He smiled a dimpled smile and patted Desi's back. "We'll take care of him."

"You're god damn right we're taking care of it and we're doing it right now! I don't play this, man, and he knew that! I told him on numerous occasions that my money and business were not to be played with. This man thinks I'm a fool. No, correction, he thinks I'm a new kind of fool. You know, a new breed of idiot engineered in a damn lab somewhere! Well he's in for a rude awakening!"

"What are you planning?"

"We're taking our happy asses over to his apartment, that's what I'm planning!"

"Wait, in broad daylight?" Donnie asked. His brothers turned to watch him, their big green eyes burning holes through his t-shirt. "Ww...what?"

"Well, genius, what do you suppose we do?" Danny snapped.

"I, uh, well---what if somebody sees us?"

"He'll skip out if we don't go soon," Danny walked over to the couch and smacked his kid brother upside the head. "For somebody that hasn't been in this business for a long time, you sure do have a lot to say. Now, he's stupid but he's not _that_ stupid. He knows we're looking around for him and he'll probably skedaddle after he drops his little brat off at school. Now, if we meet him before he takes the kid…"

"What about the little boy?" Donnie asked quietly. "What are we gonna do with him?"

"What the hell do you think?" Desi yelled. He was now leaning on his desk, glaring at Donnie and Danny.

"Look, Desi, I ain't killing no kids!"

The room's temperature made a sharp drop. Donnie could feel his stomach creeping towards his throat. His hands began to shiver and the goose bumps shoved their way up his arms. He searched Danny's face for reassurance, but his only response was to pull himself up from the couch and walk over to the window. Donnie's chest rose as he gulped, but before it crashed down his cheek was burning. He hadn't even seen Desi's hand move.

"You're new and you're young Donnie so I'm going to let you get away with talking to me like that just this once," Desi joined his brother on the couch and took his trembling hand into his own. He began to speak softly and carefully. "You've got a soft heart Donnie. Everybody sees you as the bleeding heart of the Pierce brothers, the little baby faced kid that'll give 'em a break. It was cute when you were little. You know, hmm, brining in sick cats and shaking my pants pockets to stop me from pounding on some old fool. My sweet little brother, always willing to lend a hand. You remember that?"

Donnie nodded.

"You answer me when I speak to you!"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well that's a weakness! It's a sick weakness that I won't let fester until it infects the rest of us. In this business you can't save everybody Donnie. That man knew what would happen if he dicked us around. He _knew_. It is his responsibility to look out for his little boy, not yours. Your job is to look out for your brothers and for our business. Despite that bleeding heart of yours, I know you have a little of what Danny and I have. I know you still have a little bit of Dad in you," he laughed softly and shook his brother's shoulders. "Your Mom knows it too and that's why she didn't want you around Danny and me. She don't want any one of Dad's ghost to come back and haunt you. A man can't stay pure for the rest of his life Donnie, especially in this line of work. I know it's going to be hard, believe me I do, but you just can't save everybody. You get me? You cannot save everybody."

Desmond Pierce swiped away Donavon's tears and pulled him up from the couch, "Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

"That's my boy. Danny, get what we need!

Danton nodded and opened the rusty old locker in the corner of the dimly lit basement. He handed his brothers silenced eight millimeters before helping himself to one. He watched them tuck the guns into the waists before grinning and slamming the locker. The Pierce brothers made their way up the old wooden stairs that lead to the garage. As soon as he sat down in the passengers seat, little Donnie Pierce knew he would never be the same.

* * *

"Quick Lucky hide!"

Five-year-old Lucky's head shot up at the sound of his bedroom door slamming. Before he could question the urgency in his father's voice, he was snatched from his bed and tossed like a dirty t-shirt into his closet. He wanted to gasp for breath, but something told him to hold it. He buried himself under a pile of his dirty clothes and waited for whatever was happening to end.

The sound of his door crashing onto the hardwood floor forced a soft gasp from his thin lips. He swallowed as he heard loud footsteps pitter-patter around the room. They were slow, calm footsteps. He imagined graceful tigers gallivanting about the room, searching high and low for their timid prey. He sank further into his cotton and polyester fort when he heard a loud crack bounce around the room.

On the other side of the door, his father rubbed his throbbing jaw. He stared at the three Pierce brothers with pleading brown eyes, begging them to stall him out. He looked past Desmond and Danton, the two rapid savages, and searched for the angelic eyes of the little one. He knew Donavan would save him. He knew the baby Pierce boy hadn't detached himself from his conscience. His big hildlike eyes still had warmth in them. The corners of his mouth had thin lines--permanent memories of a big smile. He knew Donavan Pierce would spare him like he had countless times before.

"Please…"

"You racked up quite a debt," Danton circled his prey, taking great joy out of watching the bleeding man shiver. "We have given you plenty of chances, you know that right? We tried to understand your situations, your habits, and your issues. Men sometimes lose their footing, no harm in that. What's a free country without helping hands? Then again, what's a country without free loaders?"

"You had ample opportunity to pay us back," Desmond picked up where is brother left off. For good measure, he dealt the man's bleeding jaw a swift right hook. He scoffed at the man's screams. "Scream all you want to, nobody'll care. Everybody around here minds their own business. You should've used the money you stole from us to move into a compassionate neighborhood. Now, as I was saying, you went out of our way to make it possible for you to make good on your word. What did you do, huh? What did you do?

The man continued to shake. He closed his lips tightly and closed his eyes. He was willing himself not to cry. He jerked forward as the butt of Desmond's pistol connected with the side of his face.

"YOU ANSWER ME WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU! WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?"

"Reporting live, New York One," Danny laughed, placing his gun to man's lips as though it were a microphone. "Reporting live!"

"LET'S HERE IT BITCH!"

"I…please…my son…"

"Where is that little brat anyway?" Danny jerked his weapon away and stood at his full height.

"At…at…school. I took him to school!"

"You're a god damn lie! My mother used to say: if you'll lie, you'll steal. If you'll steal, you'll kill. Now, you do like to steal and you just proved that you like lying. I know I like killing. So, my man, where does that leave you?" Desmond tapped the cool, chrome, metal against the man's head. Left to right, right to left, like a pendulum. "Donny, find the kid."

"He ain't here!"

"Oh, please do us all a favor and shut up," Desi shook his head. "Donny, find that brat so we can move this damn thing along please."

"Donavan…please…he's just a baby…"

Donavan swallowed and looked down at his shoes. "I can't help you."

The man burst into tears. If Donavan was gone then so was Lucky.

"Not the first time I've seen a grown man cry," Danny laughed. "Gonna piss on yourself too?"

By then Lucky was crying silently. He couldn't understand what was happening or why those mean men would do what they were doing. Hadn't they been little boys too? He wondered how boys grew up to be mean men that killed people's fathers with their little boys hiding in stinky clothes. He wanted to scream really loud when he realized he was never going to be a man.

"Got him," Donavan snatched the little boy out from under the pile of clothes. He gazed into his terrified dark-blue eyes before throwing him onto the floor. He looked down at the sobbing child sadly, wishing he could die with him. He ducked his head. "He was in the closet. The kid heard the whole thing."

Danny shook his head, "Still a pussy."

"Shut up," Desi glared at the middle brother. He cast his cold eyes on the little boy. "What's your name?"

"Wucky."

"What the hell kind of name is that?"

"I think he said Lucky," Donavan piped.

"Well, I guess he isn't so Lucky," Desi laughed at his own joke and gave the little boy a shove. "Whelp, unfortunately for you kid your old man's demons are about to haunt you. My mother always told me to be careful what you wish for. Your mother ever say that to you Lucky?"

The boy shook his head. "I don't have a mother."

"Well when they're not nagging and crying about everything, they actually come in handy. Now, your Daddy here is quite the social butterfly. He's never short on a smile or a joke, but he sure has a way of running out of my god damn money. Now, your father being the drunk that he is, he's a little mouthy sometimes. He ever talk too much when he's drunk around you?"

Lucky looked at his father before answering and only when he nodded did the child say, "No...no..."

"You don't have to lie to me," Desi shrugged. He'd been circling Lucky the whole time he'd been talking to him, but he stopped in front of the father. He sighed knowingly at the kid and pressed his gun against the father's temple. "He beats on you, doesn't he?"

"No," the child said quickly.

"You beat on him don't you?"

The father remained silent.

"You can't pay your debts so you come home and lay into your son, huh?" Desi laughed. He made a show of hawking up some spit and spat in the father's face. The little boy jumped. "Coward. Now, your father said that he'd love to be rid of his responsibilities. He was so, so, tired of dragging his little bastard around. He'd turn around and there you'd be, like a god damn shadow. Well guess what Lucky, you ain't gon be nobody's shadow no more. You know why?"

"Oh god," the father whimpered. "Oh god no."

"I think your Daddy knows."

"Not my little boy! Look, come on now, can't we talk about this?"

"You did talk! Weren't you the one that said you wanted him gone?"

"I was drunk..."

"Words have power, something Mama also told me. Now, there's nothing like making those that have wronged you suffer. So, we're going to leave you alone, not going to harm anymore hairs on that receding hairline."

"We're not?" Danny asked.

"Nope," Desi patted the crying man's shoulder casually. "Sometimes, you can beat a man too much. Mama never said that, but I kinda like the sound of it. So, you'll be leaving out of here in just a second."

Lucky breathed a sigh off relief.

"Don't you get your hopes up little man. Nothing makes a man suffer like knowing he killed his own son."

"WHAT? WHAT A MINUTE! MY BOY..."

"...is about to die. I'm going to take great pleasure in knowing that every time you think some playing with somebody's money you'll think about your baby boy bleeding out in this room. Man like you doesn't deserve children! You beat on him, you don't have enough pride in yourself to keep him in a decent neighborhood, you leave him home alone--you should've been sterilized."

"Please...not Lucky..."

"Donnie, come on over here boy."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Kill him."

"Right now?"

"No, later. Kill him!"

"He's a baby Desi! Please, I can't live with that! I..."

"Remember what I told you! Your job is to worry about us, not some low life and his unlucky son! Kill. The. Boy."

"Donavan please," the father cried. "You're not like them! Please! Come on god damn it!"

Donavan looked from the father, to the sobbing boy, and to his cold eyed brothers. He swallowed hard and lifted his weapon. He nodded quickly and carefully. He faced his new life, he was calm and still. A wet spot decorated the little boy's jeans and Donavan didn't care. He could feel the compassion seep from his skin and clump at his feet. His hand was still shivering as he aimed the gun.

"Shoot him god damn it," Danny yelled. "Shoot him!"

"DADDY," the child finally screamed. "DADDY HELP ME!"

Lucky made eye contact with Donavan before dropping to the cold, bloodstained, floor. He stumbled a bit, his eyes growing unfocused, before his left cheek smacked against the hard wood. Donovan didn't look away in time to miss the blood pooling around the child's head.

"You're debt is squared," Danny looked down at the boy. "Try not to get into anymore trouble, you hear?"

Donavan couldn't look at his handy work, but he held the gaze of the father. "I can't save everybody."

With that, the Pierce brothers were gone.

The father picked up his son and held onto him for dear life. He rocked the boy back and forth, like a colicky baby, whispering kind words into his ears. He flicked a stray coal black curl away from his closed eyes and kissed his baby soft skin. He'd done the child wrong is entire. He didn't know how to be his father, he told his mother that when she angrily announced that she was pregnant with their demon spawn, but he tried. He failed, but he tried. He just couldn't stop hitting him. He wished he knew how to show the sweet little boy affection, but he just couldn't. The only attention he could give was negative and look what that got him.

He didn't expect the boy to moan.

"Lucky?"

Another breathless moan escaped the child's lips.

"Lucky? Oh my god, Lucky! Okay, okay, you're going to be all right. I'm here, okay? I'm right here. I'm going to get you to the hospital okay, hold on!"

* * *

**  
**

"Girl, now you know I don't play that! Talkin' about 'you don't know me like that' and how they call him Chico. Well Chico better go find Debarge and leave me the hell alone," Jodie Harrison laughed into her cell phone and took another drag of her cigarette. "See, that's the thing about these men today. They have no respect, no drive. It's a damn shame."

Jodie had been working at Bellevue for three years and she still wasn't happy. She hated working at the front desk in the ER. For nine hours she turned men, woman, and children away because they had no insurance. She watched with cold, distant eyes as mothers screamed and cried because the doctors weren't moving fast enough. When she first started, she saw their humanity. She could taste their fears and her body rattled with their pleas and sobs. Now she saw faceless meshes and heard slurred voices. Her body would jolt back on at certain words, but most of the time she watched these little dots float outside the glass window. She'd rather complain about her trifling boyfriends than look into the eyes of the poor, scared, people.

"Please," she scoffed into the phone. "There's nothing he can do me for me that I can't do for myself."

Jodie took another puff and plopped down on a wooden bench in front of the entrance. It was hot as the dickens and her Pooh Bear scrubs weren't helping. It was nine a clock in the morning, why the hell was it so hot? She was sweating out her hair style, her gum was losing flavor and so was her boyfriend, her bra was too tight, and her best-friend couldn't hold a conversation even if it weighed three ounces. She needed to go to Jamaica, meet a young man, and take him back to the W and pull a Stella to get her groove back.

"Yeah, girl, I'm listening," she mumbled. She took yet another puff. "I said I was...what the hell?"

Her back straightened as she spotted a green Jetta speed down the road and jerk to a violent stop a few feet from her. She stood up to call out toa few nurses, but before she could raise a leg a man jumped from the car and pulled out a limp boy.

"Help me! Please! Somebody help me!"

"I need some help out here! Hey!" She threw her phone into her pocket and rushed towards the man and the boy. "HELP!"

"Please! Please ma'am you have to help him."

"Okay, okay what happened?" she asked as she was joined by three another nurses to help the bleeding child onto a stretcher. "What happened?"

"I...I..."

"Okay, okay," Jodie nodded and helped the wheel the boy inside. She flagged down a young blonde doctor. "Dr. Masse! Dr. Masse! We've got a gunshot wound to the head."

"How long has he been out?" the blonde woman looked up at the boy's father.

"Uh, he's been going in and out for the last twenty minutes..."

"What's his name?"

"Lucky, his name is Lucky,"

"Hi Lucky, my name is Dr. Masse can you hear me?" she nodded when he gave no response. She took a look at his wound and felt his head. "Looks like a flesh wound. Did you apply pressure to stop the bleeding?."

"Uh, I didn't know..."

"He's in shock. Let's move people."

"I didn't know! Is he going to be okay!"

"We can't take him care of him if you're by his side," the doctor said quickly. "I promise we'll take care of him. Jodie, get this man some coffee."

The father watched his son recede into the past. He brought his hands down to his sides and turned away before he could stop himself. He could feel the man he was becoming. He saw bold flashes of the man that taught him everything he knew, the man that failed him the way he'd failed his own son. If there was anyway to right this wrong, he knew this was it.

"I'll get started on that coffee," Jodie mustered up a smile. "Do you take cream and sugar?"

"No, uh, black will do."

"She's a great doctor, you know? You boy's obviously lived up to his name, he's gotten lucky all night."

"Hmm," he nodded. "Where's your restroom?"

"Down that hall and straight down the left, you can't miss it."

As soon as she turned her back, he snatched the nearest piece of paper and scribbled a name as quickly as he could. He took a deep breath and walked out as quickly as he'd come.

"Sir, sorry I'm late with you're," Jodie rolled her eyes and sat the hot cup on the counter. "Bertie! Bertie!"

"What are you going on about?" the middle aged rent-a-cop asked from his post.

"Did you see that guy..."

"Real descriptive."

"Oh go straight to hell! Did you see the man that came in here with the little boy?"

"Tall, with the Jets cap on?"

"Him."

"He just left, he said he needed to get a few things out of his car. He left you a note on the counter."

"As if I needed anymore drama," she slapped the counter and snatched up the thin napkin. "Well things just got interesting."

_Call my brother Detective Robert Goren. He'll know what to do._

* * *

Next time: Bobby finds out about his nephew. 


	2. Sleep

A/N: I want to thank everyone for the kind reviews, you guys made coming out of my corner worth while. This is my first time writting the canon characters so they might be OOC. If they are, please point that out and I'll change it. Chapter one has also been revamped and the changes Lactuca suggested have been made,

Also, I intend to read you guy's work and give feedback. I can't wait to get started!

Also, for those of you that have a three day weekend--enjoy it! I know I will be!

Thanks for reading you guys!

* * *

**Major Case Squad room**

**One Police Place**

**5: 37pm**

Detective Bobby Goren circled the brunette in front of him, waiting patiently for the slightest crack in her mask. She was a proud woman with stoic green eyes and smirking full lips. Her hands were folded on the table with well crafted elegance. Her gaze was sharp and excited.

Bobby watched her relax against her pretentious façade. His hands grazed about her personal space as though he were conducting an orchestra. He brushed his hands through the air, nipping at her unspoken rigid boundaries. He moved around her and stood facing her at his full height. His eyes roaming about her delicate feline features, stroking her healthy ego with each mock appreciative glance. He had to give Payton Brett credit. She sipped his scrutiny with sophistication and gave away no signs of being uncomfortable—to the untrained eye.

"You know Detective," she smiled kindly. "I do not like being summoned."

"Who does?" Bobby replied. He gestured towards the chair in front of her. "May I?"

"Please. May I ask what all this is about? My family has been more than corporative with the investigation. We have left no stone unturned, so as to why I'm here…"

"Your daughter…"

"Do whatever you see fit. While it pains me to know that my own flesh and blood will be scrounging amongst the dregs of humanity soon, I know it must be done. She was a disease. She sucked the life from us all with her wild allegations. I was too lenient with her when she was a girl. I indulged her far too much. As did my…oh god," Payton sobbed faintly. She took the box of tissue Goren held out to her. She dabbed at her eyes and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. It's so…"

"Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured."

"Homer," Payton grinned. "You're well read Detective."

"People are difficult to govern because they have too much knowledge."

"Lao-tzu," the house wife sighed. "You've got quite the arsenal."

"As does Margaret. She's a very precocious sixteen-year-old. She's obviously read more than her share of the classics. She and I could've gone on for hours, throwing out quotes and analyzing them into the ground. I'm sure your dinner conversations were quite pleasant."

"Maggie is definitely bright, but nothing is more sickening than watching intelligence go to waste. She was always so angry, so demanding. She never used her intellect to better herself. She only used it to belittle."

"You mean your husband?"

The woman nodded. "I remember the third time Howard came over for dinner. Maggie was about six. He simply asked her what genre of music she was interested in. She smirked and said, 'I have a catholic music taste.' My husband was a devout Catholic and needless to say he was offended. When the conversation turned sour, Maggie explained that catholic was another word for eclectic. Howard was so embarrassed he practically ran out of the house. I wanted to throw all of her books and magazines into the fireplace! She's always disrupting things Detective. She'd still be disrupting if…"

"If she hadn't murdered Howard."

"Yes. Maggie has always been jealous of my husband. She and I have never been able to relate, she's far too much like her father, and she hated the fact that I spent most of my spare time with him and our daughter."

"Maggie told me about that. You often took Vivian out to the museum and left her alone with Howard."

"I've been over this before Detective."

"Yes I know…"

"Look, I have things to do and people to see," she said coldly. "I'm trying to rid myself of this mess and you people keep wanting to rip off the scabs. When will it end?"

"With the truth Payton."

"What more is there to tell? I don't know where she came from! She's just so damned evil!"

"Every sweet has its sour; every evil its good." 1

"What good came from Howard's death? My husband was a wonderful man and an even better father. He didn't have to take Maggie in! He didn't have to open his arms to her."

"He didn't have to rape her either."

"Now she's sucked you into her lies! Howard was many things, but he was not a rapist. Maggie is an evil girl Detective. You would do well to put her ridiculous accusations our of your mind."

"There is no den in the wide world to hide a rogue. Commit a crime and the earth is made of glass. Commit a crime, and it seems as if a coat of snow fell on the ground, such as reveals in the woods the track of every partridge, and fox, and squirrel."2

"Detective," Payton began to finger her the diamond pendant around her neck seductively. She leaned to her left. She titled her head slowly in his direction and arched her eyebrow. Her voice was was innocent. "I think I should call my lawyer."

"All right," Bobby produced his cellphone from his coat pocket. "I'll be waiting."

Payton eyed the phone cautiously. He was submitting much too quickly. He seemed to like playing with her. She calmly pulled herself from her chair before brushing the table with her smooth finger tips. Payton wanted to scrap her nails against his walls. She wanted to brush a rough tongue across his ear and make him shiver. She watched him trace her slim silhouette with dark, distant desire. She knew it was only a matter of time.

"Can they see us Detective?" she breathed. She wasn't too close to him, she wanted to pluck him like a guitar. She wanted to make him sweat.

"Who?"

"Oh don't be coy. Temptation rarely comes in working hours. It is in their leisure time that men are made or marred. Seems as though you're the exception to the rule Detective." 3

Bobby nodded, a small smile graced his lips. He leaned forward and breathed into her ear. "Is that all you can bring to the table Payton? Sex?"

Payton's breath stopped, but she recovered quickly. She began to trace Bobby's arm with her fingers. "Of course not."

"You're right about that," Bobby grabbed her hand and placed it at her side. "You brought a bright eyed sex slave for your wealthy husband."

"Listen you sick son of a bitch," Payton growled. "Howard never raped Margaret. She's a cold hearted killer! Why are you blaming my husband for her psychosis?"

"Because he drove her to it and we both know that. In fact, you know a lot of things Payton. You knew that Margaret's witty comebacks and sharp insults were pissing your husband off. You knew the gravy train would leave you and that loud mouth brat at the next station if somebody didn't put her in her place."

"I have no idea what you're talking about and apparently, neither do you."

"I know where you came from. Your drug addicted mother and her little shotgun house in New Orleans. How that jazz pianist sucked you dry and left you with his rotten seed. I know that you wanted the best and Howard Brett was it. You didn't want Margaret to ruin it."

"No..."

"She told me Payton. She told me that he was going to leave you if you didn't let him. She told me you cried, begged, offered yourself. Oh now, but you were getting old, too plebeian. It wanted someone feisty, someone strong, someone that challenged him. He wanted to shut her up and turn her sharp mind into an aphrodisiac. You weren't about to let Maggie take that away, were you?"

"Stop it..."

"So you took your ten-year-old daughter shopping. The two of you saw Cats on Broadway and sipped tea at a French bistro. She relished that attention. She sites it as one of her fondest memories. You pacified her. You took her home and sent her to her room. Then you let him come in and rape her!"

"That is not true! That isn't true," Payton scurried around the big detective and fell back into her chair. "That is not true."

"She's gone now Payton. You don't have to face her."

"No..."

"You let him, didn't you?"

"I just wanted to be happy. All I wanted was to finally _have_ something! After I snatched my little bit of happiness, I was _not_ about to let her take that away from me."

"Payton..."

"Oh shut up," she shouted, tears of anger and hurt rolling down her cheeks. She licked away the droplets that were pooling around her lips. "You don't understand!"

"I do understand Payton," he looked down at her sympathetically. "You were jealous of the two of them. He was always parading her about the town, taking you and Vivian around when it was necessary. As she grew to look more and more like a woman, you grew to be a distant memory."

"That's not what..."

"What play was it," Bobby tilted his head to the side and snapped his fingers. "Ah, Othello. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on." 4

"I was not jealous of his sick infatuation with my daughter!"

"That's why you killed him and framed Maggie. You knew that Maggie had been straying from him. You knew she'd told her counsulors about the abuse. That's what you all were fighting about that night. Maggie finally told. She was stupidly giving up the life with Howard that you always wanted. She'd stolen your dreams, your husband, your pride. She embarrassed Howard and his family. She was going to pay. Why only her? Howard defended her, even in the face of her betrayal and it sickened you to the core. He loved her. He would've given everything to her. He was sick, he was cold. If you were going to do anything, you were going to stop them. You stopped him with a shotgun and her with justice."

"No..."

"You put all the pieces in motion when you realized Payton had seen the whole thing. Afterall, you allowed him to rape her. Why wouldn't she want to get back at you? If you went away, she would still win. She would still be smart, bold, and kind--the object of another man's fantasy. You wouldn't have it, right? Maggie had to go too."

"Yes I was jealous of his love for her! I made hard, hard decisions to hold on to that sick son of a bitch. He never appreciated me for any of it. He toyed with me the entire time. He dangled my insecurities in front of me and grew aroused when I fell before them. He loved her anyway. He loved _her_ in _every_ way."

"Is that why you let him hurt her Payton? You let him rape her because you could see he loved her more?"

"No," she slammed her fist down on the table. She swallowed at looked up at Goren. "She slept so peacefully, you know? I'd watch her in the doorway and she couldn't even feel me. She mummered sometimes, about her lost dog or maybe about me. She was innocent, so pure. She was very trusting. She would spark up conversations with strangers. I even cried when I had to explain what strangers do, what men do. I hated her. I hated that she could love so easily. I hated her freedom. I envied her deep sleep. She came from the same situation as I did. She wasn't born into happiness and luxury. Howard was my husband. If she wanted those things from a man, she needed to find her own!"

"When did he come into your room Payton?"

She flinched. "I was five. He paid my mother ten dollars. It didn't stop until Margaret's father took me away. I always slept with one eye open. I never knew when they were going to come. I never did well in school, didn't have the energy or the drive. Not like Maggie. I learned everything I know from television. I read the books the rich movie characters talked about. I mimicked their accent. I saved the money the men paid me to buy fabrics to sew myself into their style. I wanted to be rich. Nobody would send me back to that hell hole."

"You buried Lillian-Jean when you buried your mother and Margaret's father. You changed your name to Payton when you came to New York. "

Payton Brett stared across the table, her eyes lost in her past. She looked up and flashed a wavering smile. "I killed Howard, Maggie had nothing to do with it. What'll happen to Vivian?"

"She'll probably be placed with her grandparents."

"And Maggie?"

"I don't know."

She held out her wrists. "Let's get this over with. Shall we?"

"Payton Brett, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense".

"Who is rich? He that is content. Who is that? Nobody," Detective Alex Eames shook her head watched her partner hand the woman over two uniformed officers. "After all of this, Margaret Bowen will probably wind up in the system." 4

"Not necessarily," ADA Ron Carver smiled triumphantly. He pulled a folder from his briefcase. "Howard Brett's will."

Captain James Deakins relieved the lawyer of the documents. "Well he left her a sizable chunk of change, but something tells me she won't take it."

"She would be independently wealthy, making it easier for her to get an emancipation hearing."

"She'd also have to live with that idea of living off the man that abused her. It's a catch 22," Alex folded her arms.

"It's her decision," Carver said. He removed the will from Deakins' hands and picked up his briefcase. "I'll get started on expediting Margaret's release."

"Nice work you two," Deakins nodded at his detectives before following Carver.

"You okay?"

Bobby flashed a halfhearted smile. "Fine, just hungry."

"I'm in the mood for a burger. You interested? My treat."

"You paid last time," he pointed out as they walked to their desks. "You said..."

"I lied. I'm paying and you're going to stop trying to talk me out of it."

"Eames..." his protests were cut short by the loud ring of the phone on Eames' desk. "Major case. Speaking. Excuse me? You must be...yes I have a brother but he doesn't have... Is he going to be all right? I'm...I'll be right there."

Bobby swallowed and slowly hung up the phone. He rubbed the side of his face. His nephew. Richard's child. Richard had abandoned his son in a hospital and was expecting his little brother to clean up his mess again. His nephew...

"Bobby? Bobby, what's going on?"

He said nothing. He grabbed his coat and started for the door, but jerked himself to a stop. He turned to look into the his partner's confused golden brown eyes. She had a look of eager, deserving expectation on her face.

"Apparently my brother has a son. His name is Lucky and he was shot," Bobby said quickly. He had one foot pointed towards the door and the other towards Eames. He was fiddling with the buttons on his crisp collared shirt. He looked up at her sadly. "He abandoned him at the hospital."

"Oh no," Alex sighed. "Is he okay?"

"They wouldn't tell me. I don't even know where he was shot."

She grabbed her coat. "I'll drive."

"No Eames," he held up his hand to stop her. "You don't need..."

"I don't need to, but I want to."

By the time he opened his mouth to protest, she was already heading for the SVU.

* * *

**Bellevue Hospital**

**Pediatrics Ward**

"What happened?" Bobby looked down at the little boy in the bed. He was still with an oxygen tube in his nose and an IV in his arm. He looked up at Doctor Masse. "What happened to him?"

"Your brother brought him in after he was shot in the head. The good news is it was a flesh wound."

"And the bad?" Alex asked from behind her partner.

"Because scalp wounds bleed profusely, Lucky lost a lot of blood. He went into hypovolemic shock. Thankfully he didn't lose enough blood to require a transfusion, but we have an intravenous IV line giving him Hespan, Dextran, Gelofusine, and dextrose to replace the fluids he lost. We're also keeping him on oxygen to expedite the process."

"And the blanket?" Bobby fingered the wool spread covering the boy.

"To prevent hypothermia. Once his body temperature and fluids are normal, we'll remove the blanket and the IV."

"Is he still unconscious?"

"We gave him a mild sedative to help him rest. He was very traumatized. He'll probably come around in ten or fifteen minutes, maybe less."

"May, uh, may I sit with him?"

Dr. Masse look down at Bobby's hand, which now lay protectively on the child's shoulder. She smiled. With the exception of nurses checking his vitals and changing his IV, Lucky had been alone. It always bothered her when children were left alone.

"I was wondering if you could fill in a few blanks. His father didn't stick around to fill out any forms and all Lucky did was cry while he was conscious. We don't know how old he is or even if Lucky is his given name. We'll need you to fill out forms regarding his medical history..."

"I, uh, I don't know. I don't know anything about, well, Lucky. This is the first time I heard about him, ahem, when you called."

"Your brother instructed us to call. I thought..."

"Richard and I are estranged."

"I see. I..."

"If you could give me a second, I could find out some things..."

"No, no," the blonde doctor backed towards the door. "Take all the time you need. He hasn't had anyone all day."

Bobby pulled one of the hard visitor's chairs up to the bed. He took in the small child's face. His loose curly hair was fanned about his pillow. A few unruly coils dangled in front of the small bandage on the left side of his face. Bobby resisted the urge to swat them away. He touched his chubby cheek, but yanked his hand away as though he been scalded. This little boy, this little Richard, reminded him of everything his brother had that he didn't deserve.

Alex stood over her partner. It was the only time she towered over him. "He looks like you."

"He looks like Rick," Bobby said stiffly. He was now stroking Lucky's hand. "I wonder if they told him Rick isn't coming back."

"He might..."

"Damn it," he dropped Lucky's hand and smashed both of his fists on the bedside table. "I should've..."

"You didn't know Bobby."

"He tried...he called me Eames. Five years ago, he called me and asked for help. I thought it was about money so I hung up on him. He was probably calling about..."

Eames laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and said softly. "You had no way of knowing..."

"I have to call Logan," he shrugged her hand away and stood up. "He can run a check on Rick and found out Lucky's name. I need to figure out who he is before I figure out who shot him."

"This isn't just another case Bobby. He's your nephew..."

"I know that Eames," he yelled. He slumped his shoulders and looked over at Lucky. His eyes softened. "He deserves justice Eames."

"What he deserves is an ally. You heard the doctor, Bobby. Lucky's been all alone since he came in here. You should be here when he wakes up, not me."

"I'm as much of a stranger to him as you are."

"You can find the person that shot him, that's fine. I'm sure it'll mean a lot to him one day. Right now, he's a scared little boy that needs to know that there is somebody out there that cares. I'm not saying that Rick didn't care about him, but he's gone now. You're all he's got."

"Eames I don't..."

"I'll call Logan," she said forcefully. She opened the door, but stopped short of closing it. "You can't save everybody all the time."

Bobby shaped his lips to respond, but the door was already closed. He picked up Lucky's hand and gripped it tightly. He looked so fragile and Bobby feared fragile. Life was fragile. It was like a delicate tree branch, handled too roughly it would snap in two uneven pieces. Those two pieces could be put back together with a little help and determination. Bobby thought about the sprinkles of bark the fell from the branch. The small reminders of the accident that were left unseen, the consequences that people don't think about.

Bobby knew his brother was trying to protect his son. He operated in a world of black and white, this and that. Lucky would be safe with Bobby and he didn't have to take responsibility. What about the little speckles? What about Lucky's fear or Bobby's reluctance?

Lucky was alone and Bobby feared being alone. He adapted to it. He understood it and he analyzed it. Yet it still shook him to the core. He remembered what it was like reach out to a parent, and pull away feeling empty and let down.

Those memories choked him. His faint sobs caught in his throat. He swallowed and brushed the stray curl away from Lucky's bandage.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm so sorry."

A sigh escaped Lucky's lips. Bobby allowed the boy's hand to slip out of his own and watched his eyes flutter open. Lucky smacked his lips, a warm smile spread across his them.

"Dad."

* * *

**Next: **Alex finds out information about Rick and Lucky . Bobby visits his brother's apartment.

**Citations**

1 Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882)

2 Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882)

3 W. N. Taylor

4 William Shakespere, Othello

5 Benjamin Franklin

Also, Payton Brett was influenced by Victoria in Tyler Perry's_ Madea's Family Reunion_.


End file.
